topiary cats

topiary cats

Monday, March 26, 2007

W 77th St

Last night at dusk I was walking on West 77th St towards Central Park West. I was alone, carrying nothing- not even a small handbag. No one else was on the street; the only other people I saw were bored-looking doormen behind their doors. For that brief moment, the street was mine, and I was completely anonymous. I could have been anyone, with any past, living anywhere, going anywhere. I walked without a story. It was so peaceful. I reached Central Park, and took a moment to bask in the history of the city, to stop and appreciate the metalwork of the lamp posts along the park. Being alone there, with no one else around, in such a famous and well-travelled place was somehow a very intimate exchange with the city.

I could have walked like that for many more blocks, but I had to pick up Daya. So, much sooner than I would have liked, I stepped into the subway, back into myself. But perhaps that brief moment was all I needed after all.


My most profound spiritual experience ever happened somewhere in the Union Square vicinity. It was October a few years ago, and I was walking alone at night. The streets were busy; it was dark but not late. For a brief moment as I walked, I experienced no separation between me and anything else. It was not a thought, or a realization, or a meditation- nothing mental. It was a huge all-encompassing and profound experience. I looked around me, and realized I was everything, and everything was me- the bricks in the buildings, other people, everything. Everything was One; there were no boundaries. It was truly awesome.

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